


Our Day In Summer

by dotheunthinkable



Category: No. 6 (Anime & Manga), No. 6 - All Media Types, No. 6 - Asano Atsuko
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drama & Romance, Fluff, M/M, Nezushi - Freeform, Uselessly Tagging, Yaoi (hints), how do you even tag, ooc
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-20
Updated: 2014-08-27
Packaged: 2018-02-14 00:03:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2170335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dotheunthinkable/pseuds/dotheunthinkable
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shion is stuck in a monotonous job as a company employee, and has no real aims in life. One day, he meets Nezumi, a street musician and aspiring artist, and things in his life begin to change.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My obsession with No. 6 has been relentlessly aching for release these last few days and, I couldn't help but give in and start anew. Welcome one and all to the mind of DTU. Have a seat, grab some popcorn, and please, enjoy the ride. Anyway, if you're not interested in slow development and detail, turn back now. More from me later.

It hadn't been this way forever, but it was sure starting to feel like it.

Shion's life for the last couple of years had been like slow, monotonous television reruns, each day so indistinguishable from the next that they'd long since begun to blend together in his head. He'd started working for this company not long before his 22nd birthday, and now, a month before his 24th, he was still working in the same office, at the same desk, doing the same thing he'd been doing since his first day on the job two years ago.

University had been different. In university, he'd been known on campus as "Shion - you know, that guy with _the scars_ "; that guy with weird snake that seemed to coil around his skin and weird sense of humour; that guy who was always smiling like he didn't have a care in the world. Shion thought he probably smiled a lot less these days.

Even after all this time, he couldn't get used to the dreariness of the office. He liked colour, liked _vibrancy_ , in everything around him, but the office had beige carpet and cream walls and grey desks. The office was filled with stale AC air, felt stuffy even when the temperature was just right, was filled with even stuffier people, all in the traditional black and white suits that everyone, including Shion, was required to wear.

Individuality was something he desperately prized above all else, but at work there was so little room for it; even the photos and colourful bits and bobs he kept on his desk could only add so much to the personality of his little square metre of space. There wasn't even any room for originality in his work; he wrote and proofread reports, was occasionally asked to edit things, but that was really the extent of his job. Everything about it was grey, but it paid well, and that was what put food on the table at the end of the day.

Today was just like any other day; he finished his jobs just before sunset, shut down his computer and packed up his briefcase. His team worked in a tiny office – him and three other people – which made him feel claustrophobic sometimes, but also meant he wasn't pressured to stay behind until everyone else was ready to go home to avoid affecting team spirit.

He bid his team leader, Yoming-san, good bye as he headed for the door, briefcase in hand,

feeling his heart lighten with every step. Going home was his favourite part of the day, and always made him feel like a great weight was being lifted from his shoulders; it was like getting out of prison.

"If you can stay an hour longer, we can all go for a drink together afterwards," Yoming offered casually, and Shion missed the faint glimmer of hope that flickered in his eyes.

Instead he smiled, replying as he always did, kindly and politely, "Thank you Yoming-san, but I should really be going now."

It was a phrase he'd perfected over the years, something no one could argue with or try to talk him out of. In reality, he had no pressing matters, nowhere he needed to be, but inside, he was alive and buzzing, desperate to escape down and out of the steel clutch of the elevator, walk through the automatic doors and burst out into the rich, dazzling world.

As usual, Shion didn't notice the barely hidden disappointment in Yoming's tone as he bid him farewell with an 'okay' and a nod, and then he was finally free; he'd survived another day.

He checked his watch as he hurried down the sunset drenched street. He was out a little earlier today, which meant if he hurried, then...  
A smile turned up the corner of Shion's lips as he arrived by the river, stopping halfway across the bridge and looking down onto the concrete walkway below.  
There he was, standing by the water with his guitar, strumming at the strings and singing in a voice that echoed in the tunnel of the bridge and carried out across the river.

Shion felt the residue of the bleak, grey office wash away with each note the man's lips formed. It was a song he knew well by now, one he suspected the man had composed himself, because he never had been able to find the lyrics on the internet when he'd tried looking. He had each word, each chord, perfectly memorised, the same way he'd come to memorise the flat slope of the young man's nose, his delicate cheekbones and jaw, his wide eyes with a carefree shine that Shion both admired and envied.

This was what Shion worked through the day for; these moments here on the bridge, when he would stop and watch and listen to the man with his guitar, singing in the orange glow of the setting sun. It didn't matter if it was for five minutes or an hour, if the songs he sung were uplifting melodies or slow ballads about heartbreak; this man was the colour in Shion's day.

It had been like this for months now. He didn't know the exact date, but one day he'd switched gyms and had taken a new route from work. The first time he'd come this way, he hadn't even made it to the gym. He'd caught the sound of a tune from down below as he crossed the bridge, seen the head of beautiful, dark hair, the nimble hands on the old, wooden guitar, and those eyes that reminded Shion of freedom. Suddenly, he'd been coming this way every day.

That first day, he'd stayed long after the man had left – watching the reflection of the sun disappear from the water as it sunk into the ocean of buildings, thinking that something very momentous had just happened. He wasn't sure what, but he could feel it; could remember the way the man tipped his head back as he belted out the high notes, the way his body swayed to his own music, how he'd felt, could still feel, a flutter in his chest.

Yes, something amazing had certainly taken place, he'd told himself, even if he didn't quite understand what.  
What he did know was that now there was something other than a pay check waiting for him beyond the never ending flow of reports that needed to be written and corrected, something more meaningful, more valuable.

* * *

For the first couple of months, Shion stood up above on the bridge, leaning on the railing and watching the man below as people walked past him on the street. The days he wasn't there, he'd channel his frustration into hours at the gym, pushing himself harder than usual before going home to his empty house and doing extra paperwork over dinner.

And then one day, a few days before his birthday, Shion was standing on the bridge as usual, watching the man sing as the sun began to dip below the horizon. The man craned his head back, finishing on a high note with his eyes squeezed shut, strummed the last few chords on his guitar and then, without straightening his neck back up, he'd opened his eyes, locking gazes with Shion.

Shion felt like his heart had just dropped into his stomach, and his skin began to prickle. The man looked up at him curiously and Shion did the first thing he could think of; stood straight and pulled away from the bridge so he was completely out of sight.

After standing there for a few seconds, trying in vain to calm his wildly thumping heart, Shion began to feel stupid. Why had he almost run away? He was hardly the only person who watched this guy sing every evening; far from it. There were girls – there were _plenty_ of girls – who regularly watched him, probably more regularly than Shion, since he sometimes got stuck at the company doing overtime until well past dark. He shouldn't be embarrassed about getting caught watching. It was normal.

He slowly leant back over the railing to find the man still staring up at him, face scrunched by a broad smirk, and Shion realised with a start that he was laughing at him. He felt his complexion colour, but the man just winked at him, waved with his fingers and launched into his next song.

Shion watched until the end, and then when the man began to pack up, he was out of there as fast as he could move without actually running. He wasn't sure why he felt the need to get away, why he wanted to escape before the man had a chance to climb the steps up to the bridge and walk past him, but he did. He did laps at the pool that evening, changing the chaos in his mind into energy and swimming until he was too exhausted to push himself another inch.  
That night, he dreamed of the man's smile and a fleeting melody, dreams that grew hazy the moment he opened his eyes the next morning.

* * *

It wasn't the last time their gazes met – far from it. Whenever Shion watched him now, the man would look up at the bridge between songs to check if he was there, beaming in satisfaction when he saw he was. Each time they made eye contact, Shion felt a shiver shoot down his spine like a bolt of lightning, leaving his skin tingling and his face hot. Each time, he left the moment the man went to put his guitar back in his case, speed walking the short distance to the gym with his nerves and heart a flutter.

It couldn't have been much more than a week later that the evening came when the man looked up at him, his usual little smile missing, replaced by a contemplative expression. Then he waved at him, not a wave hello, but a wave saying 'come down'.  
Shion felt a lump forming in his throat. His first instinct was to run away, but with the man's eyes – those eyes that meant just as much to Shion as the music he played – locked firmly with his, he found it was impossible.

He felt numb as he descended the stairs, one foot in front of the other, and came to stand in front of this person who had become such a big part of his life, yet neither of them had any idea of who the other was.

Unlike what Shion had expected, they didn't exchange greetings; they didn't even exchange a single word before the man began to pluck at the strings again and launched into another song.  
He was even more breathtaking up close than he was from afar, lips perfect-pink and glossy as they shaped to form notes, and eyes framed by long, dark lashes that caressed the curves of his high cheek bones when they slipped shut.

Today when the man went to put his guitar away and the small crowd of spectators dispersed, Shion found he couldn't run. He stood there feeling awkward, watching him pick up his case and swing the strap over his shoulder. Then he was in front of Shion, up closer than he ever thought he'd really see him, and he couldn't seem to take his eyes off the moisture that glistened in a line above his lip.

And then he spoke, and it was smooth and deep, rich and sultry, all at once.

"You have a nice voice."

Shion stared at him, puzzled. "I have… what?"

The man chuckled, adjusting the strap of his case until it hung off him more comfortably.

"You were singing along with me. You have a nice voice. Maybe we should sing together some time."

Shion felt his face burning, and even though he struggled to find something to reply with, all he could do was stutter until the man took pity on him.

"What's your name?" He asked.

Shion didn't know how to respond, feeling his flush grow hotter under all the attention.

"I… why do you want to know?"

One side of the man's mouth quirked up in an amused smirk.

"Because I've nicknamed you Juliet since you're always up above me on that bridge, and if I don't know your real name, that's what I'm going to have to keep calling you."

He wasn't sure what kind of personality he'd thought the man would have – maybe he hadn't really made any proper assumptions yet – but this wasn't quite what he would have expected.

"Ah. I'm Shi… Shion…" He mentally kicked himself for his stupid nervous stutter and stopped for a moment, trying to relax himself.

"Shion?" The man repeated, and Shion flushed harder, shook his head.

"Yes. Yes, it's Shion."

"So, Shion then. I'm Nezumi."

Nezumi. Finally, Shion had a name to put to the face, to the voice, and he committed it to memory, imagined how it would feel on his tongue. It was a strange name but, all in all it seemed to suit the man and Shion had no further questions.

It should have been awkward after that, but Nezumi seemed oblivious to this and asked him all sorts of embarrassing questions about why Shion watched him, if he liked his music, how long he'd been watching him for. Shion fumbled his answers more often than not, and eventually Nezumi just laughed and asked him if he wanted to go for a drink.

"It's late," Shion said sensibly, but Nezumi shrugged.

"So? You don't have anywhere else you need to be, right?"

It sounded more like Nezumi was deciding the answer for him rather than asking, and Shion wasn't sure how to answer. He had paperwork he should probably have been doing right now, but Nezumi's eyes held a faint hope there, so eager, that he found himself nodding.

"Nowhere really," he replied, and couldn't bring himself to regret his answer when those beautiful, grey eyes lit up, and that small smile threatening to spread wide and overtake his whole face.

"I know a really good place a couple of blocks from here. You'll like it."

Shion followed him up the stairs, clutching his briefcase and watching Nezumi's hips sway as he walked ahead of him, guitar case bumping against his back. A nagging voice in the back of his head told him that if he wanted his weekend free, he should go home and go about his usual routine, make dinner and work on reports, but he pushed it away. It didn't seem right to be thinking about rules or regimen or paperwork with Nezumi's whistle in his ear, a light and carefree tone, and so Shion forced himself not to.

They ended up having dinner together as well, Shion wondering the whole time why Nezumi had invited him out all of a sudden.

"I like your face. You have a nice smile," Nezumi said when Shion got up the courage to ask. "What about you? You didn't tell me why you come to watch me every day. You're an office worker, right? It seems a bit strange."

Shion looked away, stuffing a piece of yakitori into his mouth to try and avoid answering the question, shrugging noncommittally.

Nezumi kept talking. "Lots of people stop and listen, but the only ones who come to watch me regularly are school girls. Probably because they like _my_ face."

Shion didn't tell him that he liked his face as well, just for entirely different reasons.

"I like your music," he explained, because it wasn't really a lie. "It relaxes me after work."

Nezumi smirked, as though Shion had just told him he'd gone platinum on his first CD.

"I'll write you a song," he promised, and Shion felt a strange sensation in the pit of his stomach, not unlike the one he'd experienced on his first date.

"You don't have to," he assured him, but Nezumi was already asking him rhetorical questions about themes and lyrics, and Shion found that he wanted him to anyway.

When they finally said goodbye – Shion paid for their meal, though he wasn't sure if he remembered offering to do so or not – it was almost midnight, and Shion was practically asleep on his feet. Nezumi didn't seem worn-out at all, the way he walked almost like he was floating, next to Shion's tired, dragging feet.

"You'll come by tomorrow too, right?" Nezumi asked when they said goodbye at the crossing.

"I always do." He felt a little silly after the words came out of his mouth, but Nezumi looked so pleased that he wouldn't have taken them back even if he could've.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here we go again! Another week, another chapter. As this story continues to progress ((especially to those who have already read this story on my FF.net account)) The chapters following this one will have a few additions + a bonus chapter! Please keep reading!

They chatted again the next day, and then next Monday Nezumi asked for his number, giving his own in exchange.

"I want to see you during the weekend," he explained, slipping his phone back into his pocket. "I want to know how Shion looks during his private time."

Shion spent the whole week after that worrying. He wasn't ashamed of his unique sense of style, not even the one time his last girlfriend had told him that he looked like he got dressed in the dark, and so it made no sense for him to worry about what Nezumi would think. He still did, though, up until the moment they met up, as Nezumi had suggested, late on a Sunday afternoon.

Shion almost didn't recognise him when he turned up. He was dressed in a convenience store uniform instead of his usual bleached jeans and dress shirt, and looked smaller, somehow, without his guitar case strapped to his back.

"Hey," he greeted Shion, eyes sweeping down his body, over his chequered shirt, tartan shorts and leggings, then back up to his eyes. "Do you mind if we stop by my apartment first? I've got to get changed."

Shion nodded his assent and fell into step next to Nezumi.

"Do you work at Lawson?"

Nezumi laughed, gestured to his uniform.

"What do you think?" He raised an eyebrow and shot Shion a cheeky grin.

"Well, you could have stolen that," Shion replied, sounding serious, and Nezumi looked surprised for a second before he started to chuckle.

"There's more to you than meets the eye," he said, nudging Shion with his elbow, and then tugging at his clothes. "Shion is quite a free spirit."

He looked away to hide his embarrassment and shrugged. Nezumi wouldn't understand the irony of his comment, and so there was no point in explaining it to him.

As it turned out, Nezumi lived on the eighth floor of an apartment complex, and so he brought Shion up in the elevator with him, sitting him down on his couch to wait while he went to his room to get changed.

It was tiny; lounge, dining room and kitchen all squished in together, with only a bedroom and bathroom separated off from the main living area by a door. He spied a bookcase full of text, along with Nezumi's guitar in its case propped up in the corner of the room, and sheets of music scattered over the table. Save for that, it was a little tidier than Shion had imagined it would be; not as tidy as he liked his home to be, but not a complete mess either.

"Sorry." He jolted when he heard Nezumi's voice come from right behind him, hadn't heard him approach, and flushed when he laughed. "I didn't mean to scare you. I'm ready to go now."

Shion shook his head and scrambled to his feet, wishing he'd stop being so clumsy and awkward in front of this man who, in a way, he had idolised for so many months. Nezumi seemed to find it endearing for some reason, but that didn't make him feel any less silly, particularly next to someone who didn't seem to get flustered or uncomfortable.

"Where do you want to go?" Nezumi asked him on the way back down in the elevator, and Shion's eyebrows rose.

"Didn't you have any plans in mind when you asked me to come?"

"Not really, I just asked you. Are you hungry? If you are, we can go eat something."

"Yeah, a bit, I guess."

Shion had never mastered the art of leaving the house without plans, but if he thought about it, that was the reason he'd been drawn to Nezumi in the first place; he'd seemed like someone who wasn't weighed down by the norms of society, someone who wasn't stuck inside the box – someone living a life totally different from Shion's. Nezumi's spontaneity was just another sign of his freedom.

Nezumi took him to a café for a late lunch and ordered him a panini before he even had a chance to look through the menu, claiming that they were really good here.

"How old are you, Shion?" He asked him as he sipped at his coffee, waiting for their food to arrive. Not for the first time, Shion thought that Nezumi didn't have the best grasp of personal boundaries, but that didn't stop him from answering.

"I turned 24 a couple of weeks ago," he answered, and Nezumi looked a little disappointed.

"So I just missed your birthday." There was no pout on his lips, but his voice had the quality of one. "What a shame. I wish I could've given you your song as a present."

"You seriously are writing me a song?" Shion felt a strange mixed of pleasure and embarrassment. "I thought you were joking."

Nezumi gave him a strange look. "Why would I joke about that?"

Their food arrived shortly after, and Nezumi kept talking to him around bites of what actually did turn out to be a very nice panini.

"We're not actually that far apart in age. I'm going to be 25 in November," he told him, and Shion fumbled and dropped his food back onto his plate.

"Really?" He asked, genuinely surprised. "You seem so much younger."

It was true; almost-25-year-olds didn't work at Lawson and play guitar on the street in their spare time – they worked at companies or factories or _some_ kind of full time job. He'd thought that Nezumi would be 19, 20, maybe 22 at the most. Instead, he was almost a full three years older than that. His shock must have been clear on his face, because Nezumi started laughing – gently, not unkindly, and picked daintily at the edges of his meal.

"I have a young face, right?" He smiled and cocked his head, looking admittedly boyish, even though that wasn't the reason Shion had made his assumption.

"You… what about starting a career? Did you go to university?" Shion asked.

He didn't mean to sound rude, because he knew there were people out there who did neither of those things. It was just that he'd never met one before.

Nezumi, however, didn't seem offended.

"I did. My parents expected me to go, so I went. I took psych, but I never actually planned to do anything with it."

"Then why… what exactly _are_ you planning to do?"

He had to have some kind of plan, Shion reasoned. Someone like Nezumi didn't just plan to spend the rest of their lives working in a convenience store. He'd known him personally for less than a week, and already he was convinced that Nezumi was made for bigger, better things than Shion had ever even dreamed of for himself. Nezumi seemed like the kind of person who could snap his and have the world fall at his feet.

"I'm going to be a singer," he said, all smiles and confidence. There wasn't a hint of a doubt in his voice, not even a speck of worry that maybe he wouldn't be able to achieve his dream. "I'm good, right?"

Shion couldn't deny that.

"How… how does someone become a singer, though?" He asked, and suddenly Nezumi was animated with enthusiasm, hands moving in swift motions as he spoke.

He'd applied to several companies earlier this year, he said, and was expecting responses soon enough. After that he'd be famous, and of course he'd give Shion copies of his CDs for free, and Shion would promise to be his biggest fan, wouldn't he?  
He said it all with the wide-eyed seriousness of someone who'd never truly been hurt or embittered yet by the world, and Shion discovered that he hoped with all his heart that Nezumi would achieve everything he set out to do, just so he wouldn't ever change.

He found himself paying for the both of them again when they finished, and Nezumi thanked him as they exited the café, walking down the street.

"My last boyfriend would never pay for anything. He insisted we go dutch every time, even this one time on my birthday. That's stingy, right?" Nezumi said, and Shion stared at him in wide-eyed shock.

"Your last boyfriend?" He repeated, and Nezumi stared at him blankly before starting to laugh.

"Heh. I meant my ex-boyfriend. Don't worry, your majesty; I wasn't implying that you and I were… you know," he assured him, unaware that that wasn't what Shion had been asking about.

It didn't feel right to probe deeper than that into such a topic, and so he left it there despite being filled with burning questions. He'd never met anyone who could so freely and easily proclaim that they liked other boys before, and he found that he wanted to know more, but he couldn't ask.

They went window shopping after that, then into a jewellery shop where Nezumi bought himself a skull ring – the first time Shion had actually seen him pull out his wallet – and they finally split up around sunset.

"I'll see you after work tomorrow, right?" Nezumi asked, and Shion assured him again that he'd be there, just like he always was.

He went to the gym once they'd gone their separate ways, but even though his body was tired when he went to bed that night, his mind was full to bursting, thinking about Nezumi and having boyfriends and wondering what this strange nervous-excited feeling in his stomach was all about.  
He clutched his pillow to his chest, hugging it tight and trying to pretend that he wasn't anxious for tomorrow to come already. When he buried his face in it, thinking idly about how soft Nezumi would feel in his arms, what it would be like to hold him, what his hair smelt like, he was already half asleep and by the time the sun rose the next day, all those thoughts had been forgotten.

* * *

Shion spent the following months expecting Nezumi to grow tired of him; to decide that he was boring, just another faceless, run-of-the-mill office worker, that he'd eventually forget him, but that time never came.

The last month of summer began and the telltale signs of autumn approaching soon appeared along with it. The days began to grow shorter, and Shion was glad, despite still not knowing why, that Nezumi had taken such a shine to him, because even once it became too dark and cold for Nezumi to play on the streets in the evenings, he'd still be able to see him.

He hadn't realised anything had visibly changed about him, but something must have, because one day as he was leaving the office to have his lunch, he'd bumped into Yoming in the break room, and in the middle of their small talk, he suddenly said, "You seem happy recently, Shion-kun. Girlfriend, maybe?"

Shion was a little disturbed to find himself thinking of the curves of Nezumi's legs, his lustrous grey eyes that often held a mischevous glow, his delicate features with their subtle mix of femininity and masculinity, and his face was immediately aflame.

"No, there's no girlfriend," he said, and Yoming looked at him shrewdly.

"Then some other kind of friend, perhaps?"

Shion stared, then blinked, feeling like there was some deeper meaning to that question and wondering what Yoming was trying to imply.

"There's no one at the moment," he finally said, and Yoming looked oddly relieved.

"You should come out with us tonight. You haven't for months now."

The change in topic was abrupt, and caught Shion off guard.

"I'm... to be honest, I'm not really one for crowds or noisy bars. And I should probably go home and finish some work."

It was different from his usual excuse, and so maybe that was why Yoming's reply was different from usual.

"You and I could go out some time then. To a smaller place," he offered, and Shion didn't really know what to say to that.

It was strange, he thought, as he ate his lunch alone. He'd been frightened of Yoming when he'd first started this job, of his harsh words and piercing eyes, but once he warmed to you, he was a much gentler person. Shion suddenly felt bad; Yoming was probably doing his best to try and build team spirit, to get along with all of his subordinates, and Shion never bothered to engage with him. If he was Nezumi, he'd definitely have agreed to go along with Yoming, to get to know him better, and at least to try to enjoy himself.

In the time Shion had known him, Nezumi had only ever been in positive concern about other people; he seemed to always be curious of them, to see their worth, and never truly held grudges. He was mysteriously positive yet wary, and he definitely wouldn't have kept blowing Yoming off. It wasn't Yoming's fault that Shion didn't enjoy the company lifestyle, and maybe, if he went and tried to get to know him, to get to know his other co-workers better, he'd even learn to enjoy his job a little more. And so it was with those thoughts in mind that he resolved to stop by Yoming's desk at the end of the day and agree to have a go at hanging out with him.

He stayed true to his plan, and once he'd packed his briefcase and was ready to head home, he stopped at his desk on the way out. "If I finish my report tonight, I think I'd have free time tomorrow."

Shion was pretty sure he'd never seen a smile on Yoming's face that was as genuinely happy as the one that spread across it then.

"Okay," Yoming agreed, "Then tomorrow night, I'm all yours."

* * *

It turned out that Yoming, though he still had a bit of a sharp tongue, was quite sweet and even a little shy once you got him away from work.  
He took Shion to a small family-owned shop where, Shion was delighted to discover, they had really good gyoza. Yoming ordered ginger pork and a small bottle of rice wine for the two of them to share, and conversation flowed more naturally between them than Shion had anticipated it would.

Yoming grew bolder as he grew tipsy, personal space boundaries quickly falling away as the night wore on, and when the time came for the shop to close, he'd even rested his head on Shion's shoulder and his hand on his knee a few times. Usually it'd bother him, but Shion was also feeling pleasantly buzzed, and on top of that, he was enjoying the companionship.

"I'd better go and catch my train," Yoming told him as it got later, sounding a little regretful to be leaving so soon, but Shion smiled and waved it off.

"That's fine," he assured him. "Thank you for dinner."

They split up at the station, and Yoming made him promise they'd do it again. His hand lingered on Shion's shoulder a little longer than necessary, and a strange expression came over his face just as his train pulled into the platform.

"I'll see you at work," he said, before running to catch it, and Shion watched him go, again feeling as if there was something happening that he wasn't quite able to put his finger on.

He forgot all about it when he pulled his phone out of his bag as he turned to leave, finding about 10 messages and three missed calls waiting for him, all from Nezumi.  
The messages were all variants of "Where are you?" and "I have to talk to you", and panic welled up in Shion's chest.

He dialled Nezumi's number without stopping to think about what time it was, holding the phone to his ear with shaky fingers and hoping with all his might that everything was okay.

"Hello? Shion?"

Relief swept over him, leaving him weak and dizzy. Nezumi didn't sound frightened or angry or like he was in danger, and Shion felt strangely like crying. He didn't though, not in public.

"Nezumi? You rang me before."

"Yeah. Where are you?"

"At the train station," Shion replied. Now that he knew Nezumi was alright, he was curious to know what it could be that had required so many calls and messages. "What's going on?"

Nezumi chuckled quietly, which would have been worrying at any other time, but only served to wash away any remaining fears that Shion may have had.

"I got a letter in the mail today," he said, and his voice sounded forcedly casual, like there was something repressed beneath, waiting to bubble up and burst through the surface.

"A letter?" Shion asked when he wasn't offered any further elaboration. "From who?"

"Well." Nezumi's voice changed to an exceptionally smug tone. "You know those agencies I applied to? I got a reply from one."

Shion's heart leapt into his throat, and a rush of energy spiralled through him.

"You were accepted?" He asked, trying to keep his voice calm until Nezumi confirmed that it was true.

It was like an explosion from the other end of the phone, as though Nezumi couldn't hold down his excitement any longer, and it all came out in a rush of words.

"Yes! I wanted you to be the first person I told, Shion, but you didn't answer your phone and so I may have rung up my parents and told them before you, but other than that no one else knows yet, just you and mom and dad."

A grin split Shion's face and he fought to keep himself from doing a weird little hop-skip in celebration in the middle of a public place.

"Oh my god, Nezumi, that's…"

"It's amazing, right? And it's not just a 'come in for an interview and we'll see if you're good enough'. They want to talk to me, but they said they loved my demo tape and that I look like the kind of person they want… This could be it, Shion, my big chance. You have to take me out for dinner to celebrate, okay?"

"Of course I will," he didn't even think twice about agreeing, was too excited for Nezumi to even consider scolding him – not that he would have anyway – for being pushy.

"I brought my letter with me today so I could show you, but you weren't there. So I'll show you tomorrow, alright? I wanted to tell you in person, but you know. I couldn't wait that long."

"I'll come," Shion promised over the top of more excited chatter from Nezumi. "I'll be there."

They talked a little longer after that before Shion realised that he really should be getting home and hung up, promising again that he'd see him after work tomorrow. He walked back to his apartment with a spring in his step, the entire evening with Yoming pushed to the back of his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Level Two Clear! I like to stick to weekly updates so please tune in next week for the next installment. Kudos and comments are wanted. I love those things. Well, thanks for reading; see you next week!
> 
> Read, Review, and Move On!

**Author's Note:**

> Well, First chapter complete. My apologize for grammar issues. But other than the grammar issues, how's that for a start? This story is going to be really fun to write! Please send me some lovely comments and kudos! It motivates me in every sense of the word. AND, It also gives me confidence in my story. Hits and Bookmarks are nice and all but I want to know what you think. Anyway, Thanks for reading! Please look out for the next update! (Maybe I'll post my update schedule in my profile, so keep and eye out!)
> 
> Read, Review and Move On!


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